


Empty Space, Where Heart Should Be

by errizabesu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accidents, Angst, Drama, Implied Sexual Content, Insanity, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Possessive Behaviour, Romance, Tragedy, Various alternate universes, haha as if I can fit all of THAT into one major storyline, it's a series of short stories tho, so it'll happen one at a time, terminal illness, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2018-12-15 20:18:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11813463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/errizabesu/pseuds/errizabesu
Summary: A collection of angsty short stories featuring DaiSuga and IwaOi in various alternate universes, based on six-word-story promptsSawamura Daichi has everything others could only wish for. A career that’s only getting better and better, a spacey apartment in one of the finest neighbourhoods in Tokyo, a loving family back in Miyagi to spend the holidays with, a wonderful marriage with his high school sweetheart.He also has metastatic osteosarcoma.They say at the brink of death, life flashes in front of your eyes. For Oikawa Tooru his whole lifeisin front of his eyes, in the form of his co-pilot, childhood friend, lover with his strong hands trying to stabilize the lift handle in a calm manner despite the commotion of warning signals.“We lost engine three,” Oikawa gasped, his throat dry. “I can’t—I’m losing control. Hajime—forgive me.“





	1. Cancer. I Started Lying to Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt** : Cancer. I started lying to him.  
>  **Pairing** : daisuga  
>  **Warnings** : terminal illness
>
>> Sawamura Daichi had it all. Past tense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hi! So I want to start a series of short stories based on six-word prompts found on the internet. They will be dark and angsty and depressing, as you will be able to tell from the prompts alone, so read at your own risk and please check the tags/trigger warnings. Read at your own risk, because this isn't going to be pretty.  
> \- The DaiSuga stories connect to one another while the IwaOi ones don’t always do. However, all stories can be read separately.  
> \- I'm mainly using this series to practice writing narratives and describe situations/conditions using minimum words. That being said, constructive feedback is highly appreciated!

Sawamura Daichi had it all.

He had everything others could only wish for. A career that’s only getting better and better, a spacey apartment in one of the finest neighbourhoods in Tokyo, a loving family back in Miyagi to spend the holidays with, a wonderful marriage with his high school sweetheart, and an adorable Golden retriever even though he has to battle her for his own husband’s attention—that sneaky fur ball.

Sawamura Daichi had it all. Past tense.

* * *

 

“I’m afraid you have osteosarcoma,” the doctor announced. “It is a form of bone cancer.”

Sure, Daichi still has his prestigious job, his lavish apartment, his loving husband, his cheerful dog and his dear family back in his quiet home town—but he lost his future.

“It is the most common type of bone cancer,” the doctor continues her diagnose but Daichi only hears random noises. He did remember some key information though: most often occur in people aged between 10 and 30, more common in males rather than females—basically Daichi.

“How did this happen?”

“Unlike some cancers, primary bone cancer is not lifestyle related. The cancer cells developed from bone cells itself, therefore there isn’t any special treatment that can detect it early on.”

So, his six years of intense volleyball training and regularly playing once a week still isn’t enough to prevent this, huh.

“Chances of survival?”

“Sawamura-san, it is best if we discuss this when your partner is—“

“What are my chances of survival, doctor,” Daichi repeats under his breath, “Please.”

The doctor sighed, more from sympathy rather than exhaustion.

“Low.”

There is a term in medicine called the 5-year survival rate. It refers to the percentage of patients who live at least 5 years after their cancer is diagnosed. Survival rates are often based on previous outcomes of large numbers of people who had the disease, but they can’t predict what will happen in an individual person’s case. Many other factors can affect a person’s outlook, such as the subtype and location of the osteosarcoma and how well the cancer responds to treatment.

There is a 60% to 80% 5-year survival rate for people with localized osteosarcoma, however if the cancer is metastatic.

“We will need to investigate further, but I’m afraid your cancer cells have spread to other organs,” she says in a calm yet crushing way, “The survival rate is about 15% to 30%.”

The doctor continued talking, something about tests and treatments but the only thing Daichi has in mind is Suga. How the hell is he supposed to tell Suga?

* * *

 

Daichi wished he could turn back time. Not too exaggerating, just a few hours back. Since there was nothing he could do to prevent the cancer cells from developing, he wished he could have at least spared himself from the agony of delivering Suga the bad news.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Suga asked from the kitchen earlier that morning. “We can have lunch together afterwards.”

“It’s fine,” Daichi answered while turning his paper, “You have a project to finish.”

“I also have a husband who’s scared of needles,” Suga pokes his head from the kitchen threshold, showing off a teasing grin.

 _Who the fuck isn’t?_ Daichi wants to scream, but it will only give Suga the pleasure of riling him up and that is exactly what he wants.

Suga skips from the kitchen to the dining table, untying his apron along the way and revealing the emerald green shirt he’s wearing along with khaki pants and a matching vest. Daichi likes the contrasting styles they have for their office attire. As a lawyer, he needs formal wear whereas Suga can add more colour into his. While Suga looks divine in a suit, it makes him look way too serious and Daichi would rather have his husband looking like he’s made of sunshine and rainbows.

“Alrighty then,” Suga chirps and offers Daichi a quick peck. Daichi would have kissed back if Suga didn’t have his mouth immediately stuffed with butter croissant, _his_ butter croissant—he’s lucky Daichi’s in love with him.

“I’ll be home late. Try to stay out of trouble, yeah?” Suga grabs his leather sling bag and trench coat. He takes a detour to their napping golden before heading for the door, “Bye beautiful, I love you more than daddy-chi, remember that okay sweetness.”

“You treat your husband like a dog and your dog like a husband, if I were you I’d be ashamed!”

Suga stuck out his tongue and disappeared through the door with a cheeky smile, fully aware that that is all it takes to win Daichi’s heart. And Daichi would do anything to protect that smile, to keep it away from harm, to keep it coming. He just never thought the one that has the potential to break that smile is growing in the bone matrix of his pelvic.

How the _hell_ is he supposed to tell Suga?

* * *

 

Daichi’s phone rings, again. Just like the two previous missed calls from an hour ago, it’s his husband.

“Daichiii,” Suga’s voice stormed out of the phone. “You didn’t answer my calls. Am I interrupting something important?”

“No, it’s fine. Sorry I missed your calls, I had my phone on silent.”

“Have you eaten yet?” Suga asked oh so caring as he always is.

“Soon. I just started my lunch break.” It’s not entirely true but not necessarily correct either. Daichi didn’t directly go to work after his doctor’s appointment as planned, instead he hides himself in the hospital’s emergency staircase. Sitting on one of the steps, pitying himself and finding a way to tell Suga the news in the least painful way.

“Oh okay,” Suga said. “So, how was your physical screening?”

The first time Daichi lied to Suga was in summer second year of high school. He had asked Suga to a festival and when Suga asked “Is Asahi coming too?” Daichi lied by saying “I already texted him, still waiting for a reply.” Well he did text Asahi, but it was more like “Hey you’re taking your twin sisters to the festival, right? I’m not in the mood to babysit so I’m going with Suga. Maybe we’ll see you there but if not then see ya at morning practice next week!” instead of saving the poor giant from the wrath of his younger siblings. It wasn’t until Suga rang the doorbell to Daichi’s house, dressed in his cream coloured yukata and a smile brighter than the full moon, that Daichi made up an excuse about Asahi not being able to join them.

The second time was five years ago, on the day Daichi asked Suga’s hand in marriage. Suga was told it’s a weekend trip to their home town, which it was, but he wasn’t informed of a following plan. Daichi lied about being asked to coach an extra practice session because otherwise Suga’s sharp intuition would immediately sense something off with Daichi wanting to visit their high school gym on a Saturday evening.

Daichi was never good with words, that he realized by himself, but he has other ways to convey his feelings. There wasn’t any speech or buckets of roses or candles across the nostalgic court from their teenage years, but he did prepare a ring and got down one knee as he said, “I first met you in this court and I slowly, constantly fell in love with you here as well. I asked my mother for her blessing and your parents for permission, now all I need is to ask you this. Koushi, will you marry me?”

 _Oh my god, don’t kneel it’s so tacky_ is probably not the most romantic response to a marriage proposal but that’s how it went, and Daichi swore it only made him fall deeper in love than he already is.

“Alright,” Daichi laughed as he stands up, both hands still presenting the ring he carefully sought out, “How about now?”

With Daichi being a few centimetres taller, Suga had to tiptoe to get his arms around Daichi’s neck. But it was the perfect height for him to hide his now teary eyes into Daichi’s hug, his face in line with Daichi’s ear as he messily said, “Yes, oh my, yes I will. I do. Yes, Daichi, of course I do, I do—“

Daichi wanted to kiss Suga but he’s hugging tight with no sign of letting go any time soon. After a while it felt like Suga is trying to stop himself from giving up to his shaky legs instead of hugging his now-fiancé. So Daichi decides to hug back, to hold the man he’s willingly dedicating the rest of his life to. There will be enough time for kisses later.

The third time is now, via phone with Suga somewhere in his architectural firm and Daichi in an emergency staircase of Tokyo Tokugawa General Hospital.

“So, how was your physical screening?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Daichi told Suga the first of many more lies to come.

 

 


	2. Ladies and Gentlemen, Brace for Impact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt** : Ladies and gentlemen, brace for impact  
>  **Pairing** : iwaoi  
>  **Warnings** : airplane accidents
>
>> Flying doesn't kill you, falling does.

“Flight controls?”

“Check.”

“ATC?”

“Set.”

“ECAM?”

“All green.”

“Flaps?”

“Retracted.”

“Permission for take-off?”

“Pending,” Iwaizumi double-checks the radio coms, “I’m on hold with traffic controllers. You greet the passengers.”

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen this is your captain speaking,” Oikawa says cheerfully the moment he takes the microphone. Iwaizumi scoffs, if he keeps up that bubbly attitude at work no one is going to believe he holds the highest authority in this flying pressurized tube. “On behalf of the flight crew, allow me to welcome you aboard flight 389 from Montréal Trudeau destination Tokyo Narita. We will be expecting cloudy skies during our route today, so we apologize in advance for the bumpy ride. May we remind you that if you need special attention, all our crew are ready to assist. Latest weather update at our destination will be given as we approach Tokyo. Thank you for flying with us today and we wish you a pleasant journey.”

Oikawa puts the microphone down and adjusts his radio communication again.

“I can’t wait to get back home,” Iwaizumi says mid-stretch as Oikawa takes over communication with traffic controls. Travelling is nice, sure, but Iwaizumi finds himself craving for a big bowl of shoyu ramen after spending three days in cold Montreal. Iwaizumi looks aside and is greeted by Oikawa’s cheeky smile.

“What are you grinning at?” Iwaizumi asks, more like a scoff.

“Nothing,“ Oikawa chirps.

“Well then don’t,” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes.

“Iwa-chan, by that logic you aren’t allowed to think because you don’t—yes, this is flight 389 heading for Tokyo Narita, Captain Tooru Oikawa reporting.”

Through the lines of communication Iwaizumi noticed the grin never leaving Oikawa’s lips as if he’s enjoying the sight of a pissed off Iwaizumi. The co-pilot wondered what kind of demon takes joy in annoying others, it’s like Oikawa wants him to get angry and riled up and— _oh_.

“Later, I’m not going to go easy on you,” Iwaizumi says under his breath the moment traffic control gave them the go for take-off.

“I sincerely hope you won’t,” Oikawa says without turning his attention away from the instruments. He presses a button to make an announcement, “Cabin crew prepare for take-off.”

Iwaizumi didn’t say it out loud, but now he really, _really_ can’t wait to get back home.

* * *

 

Many won’t believe when they’re told that flying is the safest way to travel. There is a 1 in 114 chance of dying in a car whereas there is a 1 in 9821 chance of dying in the air—that’s a pretty good margin. To put in other words, you’re most likely to die driving to the airport rather than during your flight. The thing about aviation accidents is, however, despite being rare in occurrence it is almost always devastating.

With the advances in technology, the multiple layers of backup systems on-board, the rigorous trainings for pilots, the strict controls and clearances, the never-ending gear inspections—there is very little space for mishaps. That being said, accidents occur not when one or two things failed, but when four or five things do and bad timing is involved.

“Flight 389, Captain Tooru Oikawa reporting. Our engine four is malfunctioning, I repeat, engine four is malfunctioning,” Oikawa doesn’t tear his attention away from the monitors. He then turns to Iwaizumi, “Slow down engine one, we have to keep the plane stable.”

“Wilco, captain,” Iwaizumi responds, formally, and proceeds with his orders.

“Katsura-san, we have a situation. Cabin crew on alert, code 3,” Oikawa reports to his head flight attendant.

“Captain,” Iwaizumi calls in horror, “Engine four failed.”

Oikawa lets out a _tsk_ but is barely affected by the news. “Turn off engine one.”

Their double-decker aircraft is too heavy for two engines alone, but keeping their course stable is more important at the moment.

“Flight 389 reporting,” Oikawa goes back to his radio com, “Our engine four failed, I have disabled engine one for stabilization.”

“Traffic control to flight 389,” the radio responds, “The next available airport to assist emergency landing is Yakutsk. We will inform local authorities.”

“Isn’t that the coldest city in the world?” Iwaizumi mentions. “Its average winter temperature is freaking -34 degrees Celsius.”

“Yet, it’s still not as cold as your heart Iwa-chan,” Oikawa manages to tease, though his hands work to calibrate navigations. “We’re flying the polar route, what do you expect?”

Iwaizumi decides not to entertain Oikawa with any responses. The captain proceeds to inform the passengers of their emergency landing, due to technical defect he said, although Iwaizumi isn’t sure if completely losing an engine and forced to turn off another count as ‘defect’.

“What _was_ that?” Iwaizumi asks.

Oikawa shakes his head, “It wasn’t a bird strike, otherwise we’d get a warning.”

“Well, if it’s a technical failure we would get a warning, which we didn’t either.”

Oikawa decides to check. He stretched his neck back as far as his muscles allow him to, and the following sigh confirmed that he cannot see the failed engine from his side window. “I’ll ask a cabin crew to take visual on the left wing.”

“Wait, let me do it,” Iwaizumi says fast as Oikawa unbuckles his seatbelt.

“No, you’re more observant than I am. Try to figure out why we didn’t get warnings before the engine died. Besides, I need to brief the flight attendants,” Oikawa stands and steps away from his seat, “Also Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi turns to face Oikawa, rather irritated because they had a deal: no nicknames while on the job.

“Engine three is flickering,” Oikawa eyes the status monitor. His face rather flat despite facing another potential crisis. “Don’t let it die.”

* * *

 

They say flying is mankind’s oldest dream. Iwaizumi cannot say for certain, but for him and Oikawa it definitely is their oldest dream.

The fascination began when Iwaizumi’s mother had to pick up a family friend from the airport and she had the boys tag along. They were 5, if Iwaizumi remember correctly. They went by car and before reaching the terminals, they drove past a line of parked planes by their hangars and a few minutes later, another line of aircraft taxiing to or from the runway. However, what truly caught their attention was an oncoming plane, gliding gracefully despite weighing hundred tonnes and held up by nothing but air. The body of metal appeared on top of the car and makes way to touch the ground. Iwaizumi remembered perfectly, and Oikawa too, he already asked.

At the age of 18, Iwaizumi got his training license, at the minimum age of obtaining one. Oikawa got his a year later. It’s not that he failed the preliminary screening. On the contrary, he aced it. However, Oikawa’s dream was to fly single-fighter jets opposed to double-engine airliners like Iwaizumi does. An unfortunate training injury took that dream away from him. While Oikawa was seen unfit for military, he was perfect for commercial airlines. And at the very least, he still has wings to fly.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa were both 23 when they received their pilot license, again at the minimum age of eligibility. It wasn’t a surprise for Iwaizumi since he’s been showing nothing but good performance since day one. It was, however, surprising in Oikawa’s case. He caught up despite having started training one year later. Iwaizumi questioned how the hell Oikawa completed the same minimum 1500-hour flight training with one year less time, but he didn’t try to find out. It didn’t matter, because what matters is having his best friend, childhood friend in the same fleet.

* * *

 

Oikawa came back fifteen minutes later. As much as Iwaizumi wants to, he doesn’t have good news to report.

“Turbulence incoming,” Iwaizumi informed short and clear. Unfortunately, he can only offer bad news.

“I thought so,” Oikawa commented as he claims his seat. It’s quite amusing how he felt the unsteady air approaching even before given the report. “It’s a technical failure, smoke is coming out of engine four.”

“Is it still intact?” Iwaizumi asked.

“Yes, why?”

“Our avionic system is corrupted—“

“You’re telling me that the information we receive, as per now, is unreliable?” Oikawa cuts off. They’re flying one of the largest aircrafts in the world, the two pilots rely on electronic devices of their plane to control its course. Without that information they’re blind, and with false information they’re doomed.

“ _Some_ are,” Iwaizumi stressed, understanding Oikawa’s irritation but urges him to keep his head cool. “Whatever technical failure happened to engine four, it crippled our sensors around the left wing. I hope that’s the extent of the damage.”

Oikawa cursed under his breath, just loud enough for Iwaizumi to hear, “How is engine three doing?”

“Still flickering but its holding on.”

“Finally,” Oikawa breathes out. Finally, some good news after a chain of unfortunate ones.

“Turbulence straight ahead, Captain,” Iwaizumi reminds him. “We don’t have enough manoeuvre control to fly around it, not without engine four.”

In other words, Oikawa has to steer them out of it.

“Alright,” Oikawa sits straight and gets his hands back on the yoke. “Bring it on.”

 _No, don’t say ‘bring it on’ to mother nature when you’re on a plane with only half of its engine working and suffering avionic malfunction_. But Iwaizumi kept it to himself, not willing to risk crumbling his captain’s resolve.

* * *

 

Oikawa is full of surprises, in both good and bad sense, that much Iwaizumi always knew. He’s that one friend that would come up with sudden daring ideas for a Saturday night. He is the type who would spend his rare days off to nurse his friends after a nasty hangover, either out of guilt or because he really does care. He’s the kind of person Iwaizumi wants to push off a cliff and run down to catch. That being said, Iwaizumi has grown a habit of expecting the unexpected when it comes to Oikawa. His rapid graduation from flight school didn’t surprise Iwaizumi, neither did his promotion to captain at the early age of 26. However, what definitely came as a shock is the kiss Oikawa initiated on their way home after the mini-celebration their friends arranged.

Many things were redefined that year. Like how people at work now address Oikawa as captain while Iwaizumi remains first officer. Like how Oikawa changed his home address, now having to peek at Iwaizumi’s because it took him a while to remember the postal code. And how Iwaizumi refers to Oikawa, from clingy-boy-next-door to classmate then best friend, and now lover.

When Iwaizumi turned 27 and Oikawa being weeks away from his own birthday, Iwaizumi got an award for his dedication to the airline. Pretty much expected since the kouhais can only mention Iwaizumi’s name when it comes to assisting in training. Even though Oikawa didn’t collect any star that day, he did become the youngest captain in their airline to meet the qualifications for flying a four-engine turbojet.

At the age of 28, Iwaizumi had everything; a stable career, the love of his life by his side, a caring family back home, and a future to look forward to. However, four months before his 29th birthday, Iwaizumi finds himself struggling, fighting, and close to losing the things he holds most dear. That, and the lives of 415 passengers and 30 cabin crew aboard his plane.

* * *

 

“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!” Oikawa patched through radio. His hands firm on the yoke, his eyes focused on the instruments, and his mind split between stabilizing his plane and requesting aid.

“Flight 389 to traffic controls, we barely recovered from turbulence. Our engine four died and engine three is instable,” Iwaizumi took over thus giving Oikawa the opportunity to fully concentrate on their plane. “Avionics unreliable, we request vocal aid to Yakutsk for emergency crash landing.”

“Traffic control to flight 389, what is the extent of your avionics malfunction?” a heavy voice with slight Russian accent greeted them.

“Failure to send warnings and status reports. Restricted to our left section, as far as we’re concerned,” Iwaizumi reported.

“Noted. Our flight experts are calculating your situation and Yakutsk has been informed of your arrival, please stay on hold.”

“Cabin crew report,” Oikawa hissed through his radio.

“Panic contained sir,” a senior attendant reported, “Minor injuries as expected to such violent turbulence but nothing we can’t handle.”

Oikawa cuts off the com with a warning to stay alert. He took the opportunity to look around his cockpit, now thrashed with the two pilots’ personal belongings scattered and manuals thrown all over the place.

“Flight 389 this is Yakutsk traffic control,” the radio buzzed to life again. “With only your right engines in full capacity, your plane’s autopilot is overloaded.”

“We’re flying semi-automatic,” Oikawa reported. Sure, that’s what he’s been doing this whole time. As if the airline would assign an amateur to fly a plane this size and to a polar route.

Though there isn’t a hint of relief coming from traffic controls, even though Oikawa and Iwaizumi made the right call. “Upon arrival to Yakutsk, you will have to manually land the plane.”

Oikawa didn’t immediately respond.

“At which proximity?” Iwaizumi asked.

“We’re calculating. Stay strong, you have more turbulence ahead.”

 _Damnit it he’s right_. Iwaizumi angrily gears their plane to face another air pocket and makes a quick announcement to alert the cabin crew and passengers.

“Land manually huh,” Oikawa finally breaks his silence. An indescribable side grin forms on his face. “If we had full engine capacity I’d be jumping with joy.”

Iwaizumi never once doubted Oikawa’s skills as a pilot, but manually landing a plane while having to stabilize it is a gamble. Worse is, they cannot split the job since only one of them can have full access on manual controls.

The plane shook, terribly. Iwaizumi can hear screams faintly through the cockpit. Oikawa is biting his lips as he reacts to every dipping altitude, to every thrash, to each hit as an attempt to stop his plane from tumbling. Objects are thrown around with the violent move of the plane. Iwaizumi’s novel he was meaning to read on-flight, Oikawa’s glasses case, the empty travel mug they shared earlier at the airport. Now Iwaizumi is certain this is the worse turbulence he’s ever experienced, regardless the condition of their plane.

“Captain, you’re slightly off course,” Iwaizumi reminded. Unexpectedly, Oikawa looks surprised.

“That wasn’t me.”

 _What do you mean it’s not you? You’re flying this damn thing_.

“Iwa—“ Oikawa’s voice cracked. “I’m losing engine three.”

The status lights flicker. The gaps before they light back on is getting longer as time goes by.

“Flight 389 to traffic control, this is First Officer Hajime Iwaizumi reporting,” Iwaizumi snatches the radio com off its hold, “We’re losing control and altitude, engine three is failing.”

Oikawa fights the controls. With their left engines dead and their plane set to semi-automatic, Oikawa has a handful to juggle if he doesn’t want the plane to tumble.

“I can’t—“ Oikawa grunts. His face showing agony and despair, leaving no trace of his bubbly attitude as if it doesn’t exist. The plane tips to the left as engine three flailed and leaving an unsteady thrust from one single engine on the right. “It won’t hold on—“

When engine four died they turned off engine one, the counterpart engine at the right wing, for better stabilization. Running on half their supposed thrust, their plane lost altitude as they approach Yakutsk for emergency landing. However if anything happens to engine three, they can’t possibly turn off engine two as well. But having only the right engines functioning and no automated stabilization, the pilots have to perform an acrobatic miracle to keep their plane on course and not roll to the left.

“Flight 389 you are within Yakutsk air zone, switch to manual controls and proceed for landing—“

“We lost engine three,” Oikawa gasped. His throat dry and his heart plummeting as fast as their plane’s altitude. “I can’t—I’m losing control. Hajime—forgive me.”

Panic cracks Oikawa’s composure, but instead an odd chuckle escaped from Iwaizumi’s side.

 _Ah, so you’re human after all_.

Iwaizumi looks aside, catching the exact moment a tear escaped Oikawa’s eye. Then a second, and a third. Oikawa’s breathing paced intensely and his lower lip will definitely bleed if he keeps biting like that. The sight of their captain’s crumbling composure shouldn’t have brought Iwaizumi relief in any way, but it did.

“You’re talking trash, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi turns back to his equipment, pretending not to see the tears rolling—it would hurt Oikawa’s pride too much. “I’d say it’s the effects of fatigue and extreme pressure but I know it’s just your shitty personality.”

It’s human to feel fear, to crumble at the thought of losing those you hold dear, to panic at the face of destruction. Their trainers at flight school knew and it was integrated into their training regime.

Many of their peers wondered how Oikawa made captain earlier than Iwaizumi. Sure, he gives a leader-vibe that Iwaizumi doesn’t exactly have, but this is an airplane, not a country, leadership skills are needed but not crucial. Sure, Oikawa is hardworking, to the point it worries Iwaizumi at times, but so are many other pilots in their fleet (Iwaizumi happens to care for just one of them, though). Iwaizumi is never bitter of Oikawa’s rocketing career, but he does wonder at times, what do their superior officers see in Oikawa Tooru?

Now Iwaizumi sees it too.

He is reminded of a special training they had in flight academy. They were told that it’s a competency training; they’re tasked to fly a single-aisle liner without the help of a first officer thus re-enacting a scenario in which the co-pilot is not fit for duty. Once the plane reaches its alleged altitude, the trainer gives the student full control of the plane and observe their behaviour mid-flight. What they’re not told is a twist in the practice. The plane’s system is intentionally programmed to fail. Temporarily, but enough to shake young, unexperienced pilots to their core. The real reason behind the training is to evaluate their ability to function under extreme pressure. Iwaizumi did well in his. He was praised for maintaining his usual calm composure though out the process, leaving minimum space for him to panic. His results were far above average but still not the best in his year.

“This year’s results are satisfactory. You all panicked when it first began, which is not new, but you all show different reactions to cope with the shock. Some needed way too long to recover, others within an acceptable time frame and very few reacted within seconds. The best result this year reacted within the average time frame. However, he could analyse the situation despite the initial shock. By the time he recovered from panic, he is able to flawlessly take control of the plane—even landing it himself even though the task was just to stabilize it. He was crying the whole time and threw up after we landed, but to be fair most of you had motion sickness afterwards,” their trainer announced a week later. “The key is not avoiding fear, for it is impossible, but to function despite it. I don’t care if you’re stoic, or bursting with tears, or wetting your pants during an emergency, as long as you keep functioning as a pilot, you’re giving everybody a bigger chance of survival. And that is the kind of pilot I’d trust my life with.”

Given proper training, anyone can fly a plane, but not everyone can grab disaster by its collar and tell it to fuck off. Their trainer mentioned no names but now, ten years later, Iwaizumi has an idea of the person who got the best results back then.

“You’re trained for this, captain,” Iwaizumi repositions his grip on the yoke. “So quit the ugly crying already.

 _Excuse you, I'm neither ugly nor crying!!_ Oikawa would have screeched if hundreds of lives weren’t relying on him to survive. Instead, he harshly wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and takes sharp inhales to contain his panic. Iwaizumi saw that despite Oikawa’s inability to hide the fear written all over his face, his decisions are precise and his reflexes are flawless, a sign of well executed training and years of tempered experience. Or in their former trainer’s words: the kind of pilot you’d trust your life with.

* * *

 

Flying doesn’t kill you, falling does. That’s another thing their trainers embedded deep into their minds. Following an incident (or multiple incidents) a plane doesn’t immediately drop from the sky, that’s not how gravity nor aerodynamics work. As long as they’re not rolled over by turbulence, a plane will keep gliding albeit losing altitude. By understanding the physics of flight, pilots are given the opportunity to turn the tables upside down. The past hour has been immensely harsh on both pilots, with Oikawa manually stabilizing their plane and Iwaizumi investigating their landing approach. It’s going to be tricky to say the least and they’ll be lying if they say they’re certain everything is going to be alright. However, they felt a glimpse of hope as they get visual on Yakutsk runway, armed with fire trucks and medical personnel on high alert, and seeing how close they are to bringing their passengers to safety.

“Yakutsk, we are approaching,” Oikawa informs.

“Godspeed, captain.” Traffic control then sets their communication to idle.

“First officer, start the countdown,” Oikawa signals.

“300 meters,” Iwaizumi starts his first announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking,” Oikawa says to his microphone, voice eerily calm at the brink of collision.

“200 meters,” Iwaizumi reports, eyes glued to the hard, icy runway greeting them.

“Prepare for crash landing.” Iwaizumi knew, he expected it but hearing their situation coming from the captain himself somehow sucked the confidence away from him. Iwaizumi quick glances to Oikawa and finding him with his composure intact brought a hint of relief. Oikawa is the embodiment of hope. “Heads down and stay down.”

“100 meters,” Iwaizumi decides he isn’t going to lose to Oikawa. He too intends to bring his passengers back home.

“Brace,” Oikawa breathes out. The sight of disaster took him a moment back but he tightens his grip to the yoke. “Brace for impact!”

“50 meters,” Iwaizumi announced, his voice now louder and firmer that it might have patched through the cabin’s announcement systems. Oikawa throws the microphone to his side, trusting his cabin crew with the passengers. He has other matters to attend.

“Hajime,” Oikawa unexpectedly calls. Being at his highest level of alertness, Iwaizumi turns to face Oikawa. The captain, however, remains in his position as he is supposed to remembering that he’s about to force his plane down. Although, Oikawa did steal a side glance and a small smile grew on his side, not teasing nor playful but affectionate and sincere. “I love you.”

That jerk.

If Iwaizumi didn’t know better, he would think that Oikawa intentionally made him count down their altitude to selfishly claim the heroic-romantic moment of their tragic love story. It seemed very Oikawa-esque. But of course it isn’t. Iwaizumi is in charge of observation which includes altitude, landing angle, and runway availability while Oikawa takes over the brakes, steering the course of the plane and responding to sudden mishaps during their approach. Iwaizumi knew better, but not being able to say back those words when it is most likely his last chance to do so, when it is most likely the last time he’ll ever hear it from the person who holds his heart, when it’s possibly Oikawa’s last words; it pains him regardless.

It’s not fair, really, not fair at all.

“10 meters,” Iwaizumi says, voice slightly trembling from sentiment. He has his eyes locked to their flight instruments again. Even with a normal functioning plane, landings are where most accidents occur, now they have to make do with a crippled one. “Tooru, I—“ _love you more_ “Now! Now Tooru, brakes now!”

The rear landing gear touched the ground however their front gear failed to deploy completely, following the avionics malfunction. But that’s not stopping them. As planned, that is the moment Oikawa floors the brake pedals and Iwaizumi executes the wing spoilers—thank goodness the spoilers are functioning. Then came a violent screeching voice as their plane tips forward due to height difference without their front landing gear. Iwaizumi felt the invisible force pushing him forward, strangling him to his seatbelt and then another force backwards in response to full-brakes. There is an agonizing sound of metal being dragged along asphalt. Iwaizumi can see the airport terminal flashing in his side, also the end of the runway. Too fast, they’re still moving too fast. Oikawa screamed in anger and pushed the brakes harder. The cockpit suddenly felt warm, then there is a dizzying smell of burnt metal—the airplane front must have given in to the friction.

Iwaizumi felt his heart stood still as they reached the last 200 meters of the runway, yet still in motion. They calculated it, really, they knew without their left engines they cannot properly initiate reverse thrust to slow down their jumbo jet. They knew there won’t be any runway in this world long enough to accommodate their situation. When the plane slides off track there is another heavy push from the back. The plane tilted forward, forcing the nose into the ground while the rear is pushed up. But they’re stopping, at least that. Gravity dragged the fuselage down again with a horrifying crack and Iwaizumi begs to whichever deity willing to hear that his plane didn’t break in two.

The collision was harsh enough to break the cockpit windows. Iwaizumi didn’t notice from the lack of partition between him and the outside world, but rather from the sharp smell of burning metal coming from the aircraft front. Right, their front gear failed and the plane front skidded the whole 2500 meters of landing strip—aluminium doesn’t work well with friction. Then thick white smoke appeared, slowly rolling into the exposed cockpit. Another thing Iwaizumi noticed is the status of their plane: it’s standing still.

“Oika—“

Evacuation orders come from the captain, but theirs is unconscious. Oikawa’s body is leaning forward following the weird angle of their plane and only held by the seatbelt over his shoulders, strands of his hair are covering half his face. His hands drop to the side although his feet is still positioned on the brake pads. Seeing the way Oikawa is hanging like a ragdoll, Iwaizumi can only hope that Oikawa didn’t break his neck during landing—the whiplash and sudden pushes were violent. Then Iwaizumi noticed blood trickling down the side of Oikawa’s face, then the wounds around his chest as glass shards pierced through his otherwise pristine white shirt.

“Evacuate,” Iwaizumi takes over command. Only now he realized that he is also wounded by shards of glass from their cockpit window. “Evacuate! Evacuate! Execute evacuation!”

But Oikawa is not only bleeding, he’s extremely fatigued. That and he wasn’t able to take cover during heavy collisions, Iwaizumi had at least that bit of luxury.

“Cabin crew assist in evacuation!” Iwaizumi screamed to the com.

 _Engine. Off_.

“Fire at the front! Passengers are being evacuated but we have fire at the front!” Iwaizumi reported to traffic control. It might have been redundant because only a second later he can already hear sirens from the airport fire brigade.

_ATC. Notified._

“Captain, get up,” Iwaizumi says as he proceeds in finalizing the emergency procedure.

_THR. Off._

“Most passengers are off the plane captain! Rescue team are evacuating the ones injured.” Iwaizumi ignored the report. He only needed to be informed. Besides, he’s not the captain.

_Spoilers. Disarmed._

“Come on, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi shakes Oikawa’s upper arm with one hand while the other flips through the switches, turning down their plane.

_Flaps. Retracted._

“We have to get out of here, the smoke is going to suffocate you.”

_Evacuation. Initiated._

“Tooru—please.”

 _Done. Finally._ Iwaizumi didn’t waste any more precious seconds. He snaps his seatbelt open and immediately felt his legs giving up. His conscious may be running on adrenaline but his physique is strained after the long battle. Iwaizumi tried to reach for Oikawa. His mind running wild to figure out a way to take his seatbelt off without having him fall to the ground, unfortunately Iwaizumi doesn’t have the strength to carry him anymore. But before he thought of a way, before Iwaizumi even touched Oikawa, there is a loud bang from the cockpit door. It startled Iwaizumi, thinking that their plane exploded but a team of firefighters with heavy gear and full-on masks barged in. Two strong hands forced him away from the cockpit and only in that moment Iwaizumi realized how drained he is.

“Get him,” Iwaizumi begged, but who knows if they could hear him through all that gear. Iwaizumi now sees the state of the cabin. It’s dark despite it being in the afternoon and mantled by a layer of smoke. It’s dead silent and empty, which brings Iwaizumi hope that his passengers are safe. All 415 passengers and 30 crew—wait.

“Tooru!” Iwaizumi screamed, or he thought he did. His voice came out as a silent cry instead now that smoke and the sharp icy Yakutsk air is piercing his throat. Two firefighters ushered him out of the plane and the last Iwaizumi saw before losing consciousness is his cockpit fully covered in smoke and one firefighter trying to get the captain off his seat.

“Please—“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I got carried away writing this one..  
> \- the engine failure that also crippled the plane's avionic systems is based on Qantas Flight 62 heading to Brisbane and emergency landed in Singapore. the part where the front landing gear fails and the front of the plane is dragged along the landing strip is from another incident but I forgot which  
> \- there was a part that I reaaally wanted to add to the story but didn't fit the flow so I left it out. it's about Iwaizumi saying something like "If we survive this, will you marry me?" and Oikawa replies "Wow, Iwa-chan, popping the question at a time like this. I always had my expectations low but now it's just gone. You're hopelessly unromantic."


	3. I'm Not Ready To Say Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Prompt** : I'm not ready to say goodbye.  
>  **Pairing** : daisuga  
>  **Warnings** : terminal illness, excessive drinking
>
>> Suga rarely cries, but when he does, Asahi remembers.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Suga wasn’t supposed to spend the weekend sad and alone, miserable and heartbroken. But there he is, sitting by the bar counter near with his face buried in his palms and an empty glass of hard alcohol just a nudge away from falling off. He lets himself dissolve into the background, hoping that his next order of drinks can somehow numb his aching heart.

“Suga.” A voice called. It was Asahi. “Hey, I came as soon as I heard. May I join you?”

Even when he didn’t feel like it, Suga lifts his head and nodded slowly. The least he can do is greet his old friend who apparently came all the way from Miyagi. Asahi unbuttoned his winter coat and ordered something to drink. It wasn’t a surprise when the waitress came with a bottle of sake, he loves that stuff. It was a surprise, however, when Asahi poured into Suga’s empty glass before doing so for himself. __You’ve had enough__ , everyone’s been telling him, but then Asahi came and deliberately gave him more.

“You need this, I know,” Asahi offered a smile. There’s sadness hidden there, Suga can see it. Asahi’s father passed away last year, he must be more familiar with the drill than Suga is. “You also need someone to make sure you don’t overdo it. That’s why I’m here.”

Suga fiddled his glass. His fingers stopped shaking, but who knows for how long.

“You can talk to me, if you want. Or ignore me, if you prefer to be left alone. Either way, I’m here for you, alright?”

Suga wanted to ignore Asahi. He wanted to ignore Asahi as much as he’s been ignoring the rest of the world, but for some reason he can’t. A little voice in his head tells him if anyone can come close to understanding his agony, it is Asahi. But then he would have to talk about Daichi, and Suga still doesn’t have the courage to do so.

“Happy birthday, by the way,” Suga said with his voice strained by alcohol. “Sorry I forgot to call yesterday.”

Asahi knows. He knows Suga is purposely not mentioning the elephant in the room. That’s his defense mechanism, one that Asahi is all too familiar with.

“Thank you,” Asahi said slowly.

Suga rarely cries, but when he does, Asahi remembers. The first time was rather stupid. It was during second year when they first went out for food after practice. Tanaka and Nishinoya cracked a joke apparently too funny that everybody laughed until tears rolled and they were kicked out of the eatery for disturbing other customers.

The second was by accident. Suga had recently lost his starting position to Kageyama and despite his willingness and understanding, it was still a bitter pill to swallow. Asahi didn’t directly see, only by the way Suga’s shoulder trebled as Daichi runs one hand down his back while the other holds his nape. Daichi gave a look and Asahi immediately understood. He properly closed the club room door and miraculously convinced the second and first years to change in the gym instead.

The third was memorable. It was when Daichi proposed. It wasn’t much, just a tear or two but it was one of Asahi’s favorite moments. If Karasuno’s third gym could talk, it would tell the story of Sawamura Daichi and Sugawara Koushi. But it can’t, thankfully the world has Azumane Asahi. He was there when they first met, when they became friends, when they grew closer, when they became captain and vice-captain, when they fell in love. He was there every time Daichi steals a glance, be it worried or awe-struck, and Asahi saw when the captain tries to play it cool whenever Suga noticed. He was the one Suga turned to when he needed advice regarding a stupid crush on a ‘certain someone’ that won’t go away. He was there when Daichi and Suga told the team they’re dating. He was the one who distracted Suga while Daichi went to ask Suga’s parents’ permission to marry him. Asahi has always been there for the milestone moments, so seeing his two best friends take another step closer to a happily ever after warms his heart.

Or so he thought it would be a happily ever after.

The fourth time Asahi saw Suga crying is now, almost a year after Daichi’s diagnose and two days after he collapsed in his office. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Suga had said. Him and Daichi had a weekend trip planned to spend the holidays, and of course, to celebrate Daichi’s birthday. Nothing lavish, just the two of them in a quiet onsen in the outskirts of Tokyo. Probably walk around town and give Asahi a call on his birthday the following day. But instead, Daichi was rushed to the hospital and as per now still unconscious. Suga got a phone call from the hospital and later a teary explanation from his in-laws. Asahi also got a phone call, but it was from Suga’s parents instead, hastily informing him of the situation and how they couldn’t get a hold of Suga after Daichi’s parents arrived in the hospital. The next thing Asahi knows is taking the bullet train to Tokyo.

“I don’t even know what upsets me more,” Suga barely mumbled. Considering the liveliness of their surrounding, Asahi is amazed he heard that.

Finding out that your husband has metastatic osteosarcoma, or finding out that he’s been keeping it to himself for almost a year.

“What was he thinking?” Suga hissed. Angrily, that was Suga’s angry voice, Asahi can still differ.

“Exactly the point, Suga,” Asahi said. “He __wasn’t__ thinking.”

Suga rolled his eyes in disgust.

“I can’t say I understand how Daichi felt, but I do now, with exact certainty, that he loves you dearly. Knowing that, I believe he was scared of hurting you with the truth,” Asahi tried his very best to find the right words. Something in between rationality, truth regardless how painful, and consideration to the fresh wound in Suga’s heart.

“But he was hurting—all by himself,” Suga choked. Ah, Asahi now gets a clearer understanding of what upsets Suga most. “I—I can’t believe I didn’t even notice. __Me__. And I dare call myself his spouse. I’m useless, Asahi. I—”

Metastatic cancer and lies aside, Suga felt like he wasn’t good enough. If he were, he would have noticed, right? If only he noticed, Daichi wouldn’t have suffered alone, right?

“No, no, oh goodness, Suga,” Asahi almost panicked. __Almost__. He took Suga by his shoulders. “You had no control over such thing.”

Asahi is amazed how he is able to keep his composure at times like this, perhaps he has matured a lot since his high school days. Or maybe, it’s the urgency of the situation that gave him no other option. As Suga started crying again, slowly and silently, Asahi felt his eyes hot as well. But Asahi fought them back. Even though he’s just learned of Daichi’s cancer diagnose earlier this morning, Asahi forbids himself from breaking down. Not today, not tonight. Maybe later, after Suga’s calmed down and Daichi gets a little better for them to talk things through. Maybe later, after he returns to Miyagi to confirm the news to his former Karasuno teammates. Maybe later, when he’s with Noya so they can find a way to keep each other strong somehow.

“I’m not ready for this,” Suga whimpered. “Asahi, I’m not—”

“None of us are,” Asahi only whispered. He held Suga closer as if trying to put his broken pieces back together.

__It’s going to be alright__ , Asahi wanted to say. But then he’ll be lying, and Suga doesn’t need any more of those.


End file.
